


Mockingbird

by MG12CSI16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Babyfic, Daddy Dean, Domestic, Doubtful Cas, Hurt/Comfort, Kids, M/M, Protective Dean, Slash, Sort of AU, human!Cas, parentfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MG12CSI16/pseuds/MG12CSI16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hush little baby don't say a word... Castiel slowly comes to terms with a life altering circumstance that threatens his relationship with Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Hush little baby, don't say a word..."_

You wonder why it's so hard to look at them.

It's a tender sight really. Dean is holding her tightly against his chest, smoothing back her dark hair that's the same shade as his and curls just slightly in the front. His voice is a low rumble that's emanating from his chest and cracks every now and then, enough to make you tip your lips up in a humored grin because Dean has never been the best singer but every word and growl that slips out is filled with warmth and a hint of protectiveness that’s slowly becoming stronger.

_“Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…”_

The baby is still fussing with her hands balled into fists, one of them pressed against Dean’s bare chest and she whimpers again. You can’t even pretend she isn’t there. Your back is to them now, eyes scanning the clothes in the drawer and you settle for a worn out white t-shirt and slip it over your head, scrubbing at your face with your hands because your mind is spinning and you just want everything to _stop._

_“And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”_

He’s still singing and she’s still crying, you whirl around to face them and your face must be twisted into some kind of scowl because Dean is glaring at you and his eyes are practically _daring_ you to utter a word. His hand protectively encases her small back as if he’s protecting her from something (you) and you realize maybe you’re not as good at hiding your emotions as you thought.

With a sigh you take a few steps forward until your standing next to him and Dean leans his head against your leg in surrender, wishing you would just talk to him because these last few hours have been nothing but silence and the occasional cry coming from the tiny person he’s been holding since last night. He looks up and jade orbs are staring a hole through you, rendering you completely helpless.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” he begs, voice a broken whisper that sends a chill through you. He wants the truth but you know, in the deepest recess of your mind and the black hole that now represents your heart, that the truth could have the opposite effect he’s so desperately looking for. Instead of an answer you opt for settling on the floor beside him, pressing your back against the foot of the bed and looking down at the baby, actually looking at her and noticing for the first time that she has his eyes and it’s so hard to look away that it hurts.

“She’s got your eyes.” You say flatly and Dean looks down to see for himself, smiling softly and stroking her cheek with a rough finger. “Has Emma’s nose though…”

You let the words hang in the air, hinting at the frustration that’s been slowly building itself up inside of you since last night when the brunette woman you remember meeting at one point in time with tears in her eyes yells at Dean, shoving a car seat into his hands before storming out the door.

That’s the first time you see Allison and you know even before Dean does that his heart is no longer yours.

“Just because she’s not yours…” he trails off softly, looking at you for some sign of reaction but all you can do is look at the baby that’s supposed to be _your_ daughter.

_Yours and Dean’s._

Dean’s and Emma’s is what she really is.

“She won’t love me.” You say. Dean’s head shoots up, eyebrows knit together so tightly you can see the lines of his forehead becoming deeper.

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course she’ll love you.” His voice is posing a challenge to you but you’re not scared of him. There’s no way you could be after all this time.

“How could she? I have nothing to give her. I’m not her father, I’m not her mother. I’m just the guy that’s always around but inside she’ll know I’ve given her nothing.” Your own voice is shaking now, intensifying the ache in your chest and the burning behind your eyes.

“You can love her. That’s all she needs and I know you can do that Cas…I know you.” Dean sniffs but his devotion to his masculinity is trying to stay in control and he gruffly wipes a hand across his eyes and diminishes any traces of tears.

Both of you fall into silence, not sure what to say because the damage has already been done, the truth out in the open for you both to see and dwell on, the only sound in the room is the gurgle coming from Allison and as if out of instinct you let your eyes fall on her, noticing the way she looks up at you while one hand is stuck in her mouth.

You hold your breath, ignoring Dean’s hot gaze and gently reach out and offer her a finger, unsure what else to do because this is a baby and you’re experience level is at a solid zero right now and it’s the only thing you can think of doing. Her tiny lips part slightly and she coos, grabbing your finger with her tiny hand, the skin warm against yours.

You smile, your chest now tight with a feeling you can’t even comprehend and Dean is smiling too because he was so afraid to lose you and now he can hold on to the hope that you will learn and over time you can love her the way you’re supposed to.

“She’s strong,” you comment finally and Dean looks like he’s going to burst with pride as he strokes her hair again. When she lets go of your finger you pull your hand back into your lap, look at Dean and offer him a sad smile.

“I’m gonna learn,” you say. The determination in your voice earns you a pair of lips being pressed against your forehead. “Just give me some time.” 


	2. Chapter 2

After a few days of having Allison in the house you are finally beginning to come to terms with the lack of sleep. While it’s always Dean who stirs in the middle of the night with dewy eyes to heat a bottle or mumble the words to a Zeppelin song in the middle of the nursery, you are always there listening through the monitor sitting on the dresser in secret. Coming to terms with a daughter that is in no biological way yours is not easy, but you have always been a sucker for Dean’s bright green eyes and combining them with a button nose and the pinkest lips you have ever seen makes it harder to resist someone who is now a constant presence in your life.

Your first one on one encounter with Allison comes the day Dean goes back to work, the serious but good natured threat from Bobby to get his ass back to the yard echoing through the phone. Luckily your neighbor is more than happy to watch the baby while you’re both away but when you pull up that evening after a long day you see that Dean has already beat you there and the exhaustion is evident on his face even from where you sit. He’s got grocery bags in one hand and the car seat in the other and you quickly bump the car door closed before coming over and taking the bags from him. He shoots you a grateful look and hauls the baby inside, leaving you standing on the porch biting your lip as the ice-cream slowly melts in the heat of the summer.

Things move quickly from there, a blur of formula and diapers and setting up the new crib Dean managed to find online for a decent price. Up until that point Allison had slept in a bassinet you had managed to sweet talk from your sister but Dean was adamant that his daughter would have her own bed (he ignores you when you try to point out that she is only months old and it doesn’t really matter but apparently years of sharing a bed with your brother can traumatize a man) and you spend a good two hours staring at directions you’d rather rip to shreds before it sits, completed, in the extra bedroom. By the time everything’s finished it’s nearly time to put Allison to bed while you manage to find something for dinner because you know Dean skipped lunch so he could get home earlier (he denies it but you can tell from the way he runs his hand through his hair that he is lying).

By the time Allison is fed and you’ve managed to get Dean to eat the sandwich you made, everyone is ready for sleep. You watch him rock the baby from the doorway for a few minutes before stumbling to the bedroom and collapsing while you wait for Dean. When he finally appears he is dead on his feet, not even acknowledging the kiss you press to the back of his neck when he settles down or the arm you wrapped around his waist. He’s asleep almost instantly, thankfully unable to hear your agitated sigh as you roll over so your back is now facing his. You’ve learned over time that Allison, if Dean is able to put her to bed by eight, will usually stir around midnight and as if on cue the baby monitor comes to life and the sound of quieted cries and hiccups makes its way into the room.

Quietly you wait for Dean to move, arching his back before he throws his legs over the side and shuffles his feet across the carpet but all you hear is the sound of soft snoring. You contemplate waking him, rolling over and putting a hand to his shoulder but when you catch sight of his face, peaceful in sleep, you suddenly change your mind. Pulling back the duvet you crawl out of bed and stumble down the hall to Allison’s room, finding her with balled fists and red cheeks. It is not that you have no idea what you’re doing; you have quite a few nieces and nephews now and you have watched them all at one point in time, it is the fact that there is still a feeling of doubt in the pit of your stomach when you think of being a father to this tiny, perfect human being who deserves more than you could ever offer. Another wail pulls you from your place of self-pity, a hungry sounding wail that if left without attention, will surely wake the man in the other room.        

Gently you reach down and lift Allison from her crib, letting her rest against your chest as you bounce slightly, whispering in her ear all the way to the kitchen. While the bottle is in the microwave you gently rub her back and when the wail of the machine sounds you take the newly warmed bottle and head back to the bedroom. Her room is mostly empty, just the crib and an old rocking chair that sits in the corner but Dean has plans to restore some old furniture from Bobby’s house with Sam’s help when he gets back in the state. Taking Allison to the chair with her knitted pink blanket you ease down, resting her in the crook of your arm before she happily takes her bottle and suckles contently as your eyes slowly droop, heavy with sleep and the warmth of her tiny body seeps into yours.

* * *

The next time you open your eyes it is daybreak, gentle sunshine seeping through the blinds as someone gently shakes your shoulder before the sensation suddenly disappears. Blinking rapidly you feel something is off and it’s not the fact that you have just spent the night in a rocking chair. You realize suddenly that it is the lack of warmth and smell of baby shampoo that has become oddly soothing and you jerk forward, empty bottle falling to the floor with a thud. There is laughter coming from the other side of the room, Dean with a newly changed Allison in his arms, looking healthier and well rested. Coming to your feet you smile against the warm kiss placed on your cheek, his whiskered face scratching against yours.

“Thank you for taking care of her last night,” he smiles, kissing his daughter’s soft hair.

You shrug, trying to blow it off. “You needed sleep.”

He smirks, gives you one more peck before he and Allison disappear round the corner and your mind is left spinning in a million different directions although the smile creeping onto your face is undeniable as you drag yourself to the kitchen to make breakfast. 


	3. Chapter 3

Her first word is "dada," but it ends up that the normally joyous occasion is met with mixed emotions when it becomes painfully obvious that her forest green eyes are clearly seeking out yours and _not_ _Dean's_.

Of course, for the sake of Allison, neither of you react with disappointment or frustration (or anything else Dean is possibly feeling because you are surprisingly numb), instead you watch him scoop her out of the high chair, kiss both pudgy cheeks and praise her as he settles her on his hip. You yourself even manage a soft smile and ruffle the chocolate colored curls on her head, mostly because her eyes are still locked on yours, crinkled around the edges from the giggles escaping her lips. You keep quiet as Dean walks out of the room after that despite the urge to call out to him and assure him it was a mix up, she didn’t mean to call _you_ dada the first time and it was merely a slip but his steps are far quicker than they normally are. A sure sign that someone’s feelings have been hurt and you know it wasn’t yours.

Late in the afternoon, almost six hours since the breakfast incident, Allison is down napping and Dean is busy in the basement, the thud of the washing machine against the wall barely audible from your spot on the couch, TV remote in hand. He’s been avoiding you, spending most of his time that wasn’t devoted to Allison on chores that he would normally put off until you would realize they would never get done before you set off to do them yourself. But so far today you’ve found a sink full of shining dishes, a vacuumed hallway and bedrooms and soon you will find stacks of freshly folded clothes in your dresser drawer and for some reason that worries you more than it should.

As quietly as you can you heave yourself off the couch, tiptoeing down the hallway past the nursery and to the steps leading downstairs. You never really liked the basement, it was cold and dim and over all depressing despite the carpeted floor and the TV Dean insisted be put up on the far wall in front of two leather recliners.

_“Every man needs a man cave,”_ he had said.

The washer and dryer are on the opposite side of the room, pushed back against the wall beside a rack that holds the fruity smelling detergent you love (that Dean always rolls his eyes at) and industrial strength stain remover for Dean’s work clothes because let’s face it, grease is a bitch to get out.

Dean is situated in front of the dryer, the door propped open against his leg as he folds impossibly tiny baby clothes with surprising care. Clearing your throat manages to catch his attention when you fail to find the words, his head snapping up in one jerky movement and when he sees you he just nods his head.

 “Hey.”

You scoff and fold your arms. “Hey?”

He sneers, but his eyes are hurt.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hey _Dad._ ”

Shit.

Immediately upon sensing his anger you let your arms fall back to your sides with a dull smack and your eyes melt into pools of ice blue apologies that he readily tries to avoid.

“Don’t Cas. Just don’t, please.”

He’s begging you, jaw clenched tightly as if he was fighting the urge to just scream his frustrations (you are almost positive that if there wasn’t a sleeping baby upstairs that’s exactly what he would do) as he braces himself against the dryer and draws in shuddering breaths.

You haven’t seen Dean this upset in a long time, back when you first started dating and the first fight ended up being over his wandering eyes and a bleach blonde woman with a tramp stamp. Apparently jealousy doesn’t suit you and Dean doesn’t appreciate accusations of his loyalty being thrown his way, but of course this was nothing like that time and you know a simple round in the sheets (he likes it angry on occasion) isn’t going to fix anything.

This is personal, it’s family and memories and despite his insistence that you are as much of a father to Allison as he, you haven’t been as much of an influence on her as he has. Or at least that was what everyone thought.

You inch closer and lower your voice to a whisper when he doesn’t move. “It doesn’t mean anything Dean. So she happened to look my way when she said it, that doesn’t make you second best to her or anyone else. We all know you work damn hard to take care of her and if she were older she would appreciate it…just, don’t shut me out because of this. Please.”

“I’m never gonna shut you out,” he says in a gravelly voice that sends shivers through you. “I just…I guess I’m jealous is all.”

His shoulders begin to shake with laughter at his own confession, the tremors deepening when he sees your face and you realize your jaw is hanging open and your eyes are as wide as a cartoon characters. Ever since you met Dean Winchester you have been jealous. Of his looks, of his compassion, his confidence hell even his car; Everything Dean had you wanted and if you were honest the fact is still true today when you realize that most of the admirable things in your life were his.

_There’s the house,_ you begin to say but then you remember it was in Dean’s name, bought long before you came along.

The house, the impala, even the furniture was all Dean’s.

Of course, even though you’ve been denying it since day one, there was always…

_Oh._

And that’s when reality (always late of course) smacks you in the face like a flyaway ball.

All this time spent wishing you had what he did, pining over green eyes and beautiful cars, you never realized that now you _did_ have something Dean had and while it wasn’t really visible to you until right now it was true because he warmth that suddenly spreads through your chest when you think of her is impossible to ignore.

When the breath hitches in your throat you clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, locking eyes with Dean who just seems confused as his brow deeply furrows. He stands up straight and looks ready to shake you silly, bring you back to your senses and tell him exactly what the hell was going on. Thankfully though, you recover in time just as his hands begin to grip your shoulders and you flick your gaze up to his and feel your lips stretch into a full blown smile.

“I’m her dad,” it comes out as a statement, bewildered and slightly shocked.

Dean looks unimpressed by your sudden revelation and just slowly nods his head, voice bordering on sarcastic. “Yeah Cas. I’ve been trying to get that through your brain for almost a year.”

“And you’re jealous? That she called me dad first? Not angry or upset?”

This time he lets out an exasperated sigh and throws up his hands. “Yes Cas. I’m jealous, not angry or upset or anything else that is synonymous with mad. But if you ask me one more stupid question I may have to reconsider that answer.”

“Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “I guess I just sort of realized something I should have a long time ago.”

This time Dean smiles, leaning forward and planting a rough kiss on your lips, tasting like coffee and something that is strictly and undeniably Dean and when he pulls back you grasp the back of his neck and bring him back for more.

It lasts about forty seconds until a hearty wail from the floor above shreds the silence and Dean sprints up the stairs before you can even blink.


End file.
